# Kafka's spiritual dimension

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Greg Massiah, Kafka's spiritual dimension, bahai-library.com.
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> 
> Kafka's spiritual dimension
> 
> Greg Massiah
> 
> published in Bahá'í Studies Review6
> 
> London: Association for Bahá'í Studies English-Speaking Europe, 1996
> 
> Franz Kafka (1883-1924) once wrote, "For everything outside the phenomenal
> world, language can only be used allusively."(2)
> 
> In his fiction he adhered so closely to this principle that the metaphysical
> significance of his work is often overlooked. In this essay I aim to draw
> attention to his exploration of religion and spirituality in three of his
> best-known short stories: The Judgment, In the Penal Colony and
> Before the Law.
> 
> The Judgment begins with Georg Bendemann, at home with his ageing
> father, writing to a friend in St Petersburg to announce his engagement
> to a certain Frieda Brandenfeld. He has reservations about conveying his
> own happiness to his friend who faces business failure and loneliness as
> an emigrant bachelor. He turns to his father for friendly advice. Herr
> Bendemann, however, resents his son's new-found self-sufficiency and reacts
> angrily, insulting his fiancée and even denying the existence of
> his friend. He then changes his mind abruptly, not just acknowledging the
> existence of Georg's friend but claiming to be in league with him against
> Georg, and to have written to St Petersburg himself. He tells Georg:
> 
> He knows everything a hundred times better than you do
> yourself, he crumples up your letters unread in his left hand while he
> holds up my own letters to read in his right!
> 
> As the story proceeds, Georg is overwhelmed by his father's relentless
> verbal attacks. When his father eventually condemns him to death by drowning,
> he feels compelled to carry out the sentence. He runs out of the house
> and throws himself off a bridge.
> 
> One approach to The Judgment is to compare Georg's social dilemma
> to that faced by Kafka at the time he was writing. He was himself engaged,
> and sets up a direct correlation with his hero by giving Georg's fiancée
> the same initials as his own, Felice Bauer. Yet further biographical investigation
> does not lead us to a bachelor friend in St Petersburg. According to his
> diaries of the time, Kafka was afraid that by settling into matrimony he
> would neglect his writing. It has been suggested that Georg himself represents
> material comfort and family life, while his friend personifies the self-denial
> and isolation Kafka found necessary for his art. The friend's ill-health
> and the meagre returns of his business reflect Kafka's prospects, at least
> in his father's eyes, of earning his living as a writer.
> 
> It is not enough to say that Georg's friend is the writer in Kafka and
> Georg is not. Though Georg's friend displayed a talent for vivid story-telling
> on an earlier visit to the Bendemanns, it is Georg whom we see writing.
> He desires to maintain his "correspondence" with the lonely emigrant however
> slow and uncomfortable the process of communication may be. This tendency
> is implied by the first half of the name Bendemann which suggests
> the German verb binden, to tie or unite. Georg tries to satisfy
> the demands of friend, fiancée and father, just as Kafka hoped to
> reconcile social obligations with his need for artistic expression.
> 
> Yet The Judgment has a deeper significance than the author's
> own life. While Kafka's situation was delicate, it was not a matter of
> life and death. In the final tirade before passing the death sentence on
> his son, Herr Bendemann tells Georg:
> 
> So now you know what there's been in the world besides
> you, until now you've known of nothing but yourself.
> 
> Reaching maturity and leaving the domestic sphere prescribed for him is
> an act of rebellion in his father's eyes. Georg's father places him in
> a double bind; he expects Georg to take increasing control over his own
> life, but without encroaching on his own paternal authority. It is a typically
> Freudian conflict between father and son; its pivotal moment is when Georg
> is calmly tucking his father in to bed and he springs up in revolt, accusing
> Georg of trying to bury him. From this point Georg is on the defensive,
> as he is increasingly dominated by his father both physically and verbally.
> He tells Georg that his marriage is a disgrace to the memory of his mother
> and taunts him with a crude impersonation of his fiancée. Georg
> is told:
> 
> You were an innocent child, it's true, but it's even
> more true that you've been a diabolical creature!
> 
> Traditionally good and evil have been with us since Adam; Kafka compared
> their co-existence in man to two interlocked hands, "inseparable without
> cutting through flesh, blood and bone."(3)
> Yet Georg's father is able to effect this fission, delivering a swift verdict
> in contrast to the lengthy equivocations of the human justice system in
> Kafka's novel The Trial. Thus his pronouncement invites comparison
> with the "Word of God" according to Hebrews 4:12:
> 
> ...sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the
> division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow.
> 
> In coming of age Georg has lived out his own Fall of Adam; his father punishes
> his perceived rebellion with the compelling wrath of the Old Testament
> God. Georg on the other hand is distinctly human, indeed a kind of Everyman,
> as implied by the second half of his surname. Such a confrontation between
> God and man could of course never happen, as Bahá'u'lláh
> says, "Divine revelation hath been vouchsafed unto men in direct proportion
> to their spiritual capacity."(4)
> 
> But Georg's father shows him no such consideration. In his quasi-religious
> search for guidance from a higher authority, Georg is met by a being whose
> power and knowledge infinitely surpass his own. He is consequently "dismayed
> and overpowered,"(5) as Bahá'u'lláh
> describes the effect on individuals of unmediated revelation. He can no
> longer resist his father's accusations with logic as these rules of human
> interaction no longer apply. His guilt requires no rational proof.
> 
> The Judgment depicts a turning-point in a human life. This is
> an eminently suitable focus for a short story, creating tension without
> the need to document the entire sequence of events leading up to the dilemma.
> Kafka's own life was finely balanced, but given the story's wider significance,
> his vision of a human being at a turning point may be considered a reference
> to the special position of mankind in creation. 'Abdu'l-Bahá describes
> this role and its ensuing complications in Some Answered Questions:
> 
> Man...is the end of imperfection and the beginning of
> perfection. Not in any other species in the world of existence is there
> such a difference, contrast, contradiction and opposition as in the species
> of man.(6)
> 
> In concentrating on the relationship between Georg and his father, it is
> easy to ignore Georg's friend, whose presence in the story seems to have
> no bearing on the central family relationship. A distant and anonymous
> figure, he seems to dwell only at the periphery of Georg's consciousness,
> yet leaps to sudden prominence. We have considered that in the biographical
> schema he may personify the author's artistic nature. As the source of
> artistic expression is the soul, he may at the general human level be considered
> to represent Georg's spiritual side. Georg enjoys a measure of material
> prosperity, as did Kafka's generation of Prague Jews at the expense of
> their Jewish identity. Now Georg belatedly turns his attention to the requirements
> of his soul in the person of his friend. Herr Bendemann calls Georg's friend
> "a son after my own heart," recalling God's creation of man, and specifically
> the human soul, "in his own image." The substance of his shocking revelation
> to Georg is that the spiritual self he has neglected for so long, whom
> he has allowed almost to die away, is in fact "ten thousand times" more
> significant than the physical man who is about to be married. His rediscovery
> of his soul is like the eating of the forbidden Tree. It is a necessary
> act, for without good and evil he is not human. But in maintaining contact
> with his spiritual nature he makes himself accountable to God. Kafka's
> Aphorism #86 neatly summarizes Georg's fate:
> 
> No man is satisfied with the Knowledge (of good and evil)
> alone, but must endeavour to act accordingly. But he is not granted the
> power to do so, hence he must destroy himself...
> 
> In The Penal Colony centres on an explorer who observes the gruesome
> execution of a soldier in an island penal colony. The officer in charge
> also initiates him into the judicial system on which the colony operates:
> "Guilt is always beyond question." The story is often considered a prophetic
> work, prefiguring the totalitarian regimes that would emerge later in the
> century, but its genre is not purely sci-fi horror. The officer peppers
> his expository monologue with distinctly religious language. Thus the guilty
> soldier has not merely disobeyed an order but "transgressed a commandment"
> (similar terminology is used in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment).
> He begins to enthuse about the former commander of the colony and it soon
> becomes clear that he attributes to him an almost messianic status. His
> reign was a golden age in which the whole population of the island would
> assemble to observe each execution and all those involved in the ritual
> of justice were held in great public respect. Now, as the explorer observes
> almost immediately, the people have no interest in executions; indeed the
> landscape against which the story unfolds is oppressively empty. Only the
> officer remains faithful to the old commander, operating the death-machine
> strictly according to the instructions contained in his writings, with
> such reverence that he performs ablutions with sand before handling them.
> The picture is complete when the explorer learns that the officer, awaiting
> the resurrection of the commander, has even tried to exhume him.
> 
> The local people the explorer meets are well aware of the beliefs associated
> with the former commander but do not seem to take them very seriously.
> The officer survives on nostalgia; he and his attendant continue to wear
> their heavy old uniforms because "they signify our homeland; we don't want
> to lose our homeland." In the Penal Colony is thus a depiction of
> what happens when a system of belief loses its relevance for the community
> it once supported. It draws on Kafka's experiences of Jewish society. His
> father insisted on his participation in Jewish observances as a child,
> but Kafka soon gained the impression that these were superficial practices
> with no grounding in genuine belief.(7)
> 
> Increasing assimilation meant the Jewish faith was no longer the binding
> force of Kafka's generation. Neither "drawn by the already heavily sinking
> hand of Christianity" nor "grasping at the last fleeting corner of the
> Jewish prayer-shawl like the Zionists," he identified himself with an era
> of transition in religious history: "I am an end or a beginning."(8)
> 
> Unlike secular Western societies which are based on democracy, the ideal
> of Jewish society is the Mosaic theocracy. Under the social contract of
> democracy, crimes against society are defined and punished by representatives
> of the people who constitute it, but in a theocracy crime is replaced by
> sin, defined and punished by God.(9) Civil
> law sets limits to permissible behaviour within a society and requires
> mere obedience, but divine law constitutes the Covenant of God with humanity
> and demands whole-hearted allegiance, as Bahá'u'lláh says
> in the Kitáb-i-Aqdas, "Observe My commandments, for the love
> of My beauty."(10)
> 
> The Law is central to Jewish identity as it is to any religious society,
> for by following its prescriptions in every aspect of personal life one
> is bound into the life of the community of its followers. In The Penal
> Colony this bond has broken down; the great public ceremonies have
> become the private rituals of an isolated die-hard. What occurs in the
> colony resembles the decline of a religion. Since the death of the former
> commander the community has polarized into extremists and the disaffected.
> His official successor has come into conflict with his most fervent disciple,
> the officer, who jealously exercises what power he can in his role of executioner.
> Like a modern fundamentalist he considers himself the upholder of religion
> and guardian of the conscience of the people. He operates on the principles
> of close obedience to received dogma and absolute certainty in the justice
> of his actions, remains oblivious to public opinion and is ultimately ready
> to sacrifice his own life to his cause.
> 
> The story contains indications of the cause of decline. When the explorer
> inspects the former commander's writings he finds the original laws impossible
> to discern from the calligraphic ornamentation, "a maze of criss-cross
> lines," that surrounds them. As the officer insists that the incisions
> in the condemned man's back must follow precisely the prescribed pattern,
> it is these supplementary wounds which cause the fatal bleeding. The implication
> is that religion can become harmful, as a result not of its original teachings
> but of stubborn adherence to every detail of the additional dogma which
> accretes around it. Corruption creeps into religion until it is indistinguishable
> from the truth and is just as vigorously upheld. In a startling metaphor
> Kafka describes a religious service at which leopards break in to the temple
> and steal the sacramental wine. The same thing reoccurs until it is considered
> an indispensable part of the ceremony.(11)
> 
> The key is not to prevent evolution within religion but to recognize
> it as it occurs. Though fascinated by the age of the patriarchs, Kafka
> was never as keen a Zionist as many of his contemporaries. The target of
> his criticism here is not Judaism or religion itself but the mindless perpetuation
> of its rituals and the self-righteousness of those who refuse to accept
> change. What Kafka found most damaging in human relationships was the urge
> to accuse, blame and judge others. He wrote that the source of original
> sin "consists in the accusation a man makes, and which he will not abandon,
> that he has been wronged."(12) Though all
> faiths exhort its restraint, this tendency is often strongest in those
> who consider themselves religious, as typified by the officer's particular
> fervour for retribution. His obsessively fault-finding gaze finally settles
> on himself, and he offers himself up as the final victim of the death-machine,
> receiving the commandment "Be just."
> 
> Before the Law stands a doorkeeper. To this doorkeeper
> there comes a man from the country and asks to be admitted to the law.
> But the doorkeeper says that he cannot at present grant him admittance.
> The man considers, and then asks whether that means he may be admitted
> later on. "It is possible," says the doorkeeper, "but not at present."
> Since the gate leading to the law stands open as always and the doorkeeper
> steps aside, the man bends down to look through the gateway into the interior.
> When the doorkeeper sees this he laughs and says: "If it tempts you so,
> then try entering despite my prohibition. But mark: I am powerful. And
> I am only the lowest doorkeeper. In hall after hall stand other doorkeepers,
> each more powerful than the last. The mere sight of the last is more than
> even I can bear." The man from the country has not expected such difficulties;
> the law, he thinks, should be accessible to everyone and at all times;
> but as he now takes a closer look at the doorkeeper in his fur coat, at
> his large pointed nose, his long, sparse, black Tartar beard, he decides
> that it is better, after all, to wait until he receives permission to enter.
> The doorkeeper gives him a stool and lets him sit down to one side of the
> door. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be admitted
> and wearies the doorkeeper with his entreaties. The doorkeeper often conducts
> little examinations with him, questioning him about his home and about
> much else; but they are impersonal questions such as dignitaries ask, and
> he always concludes by repeating once again that he cannot yet admit him.
> The man, who has equipped himself well for his journey, uses up all that
> he has, however valuable it is, in order to bribe the doorkeeper. The latter
> always accepts everything, but saying as he does so: "I only accept so
> you won't feel there's anything you haven't tried." Throughout the many
> years the man observes the doorkeeper almost without interruption. He forgets
> the other doorkeepers, and this first one seems to him the sole obstacle
> barring his admission to the law. He curses his misfortune, fiercely and
> loudly in the early years; later, as he grows old, he merely grumbles away
> to himself. He becomes childish, and since during his long study of the
> doorkeeper he has even discovered the fleas in his fur collar, he begs
> the fleas as well to help him and change the doorkeeper's mind. Finally
> his sight begins to fail and he does not know whether it is really growing
> darker around him or whether his eyes are just deceiving him. But he can
> indeed perceive in the darkness a radiance that streams out unquenchably
> from the doorway of the law. Now he has not much longer to live. Before
> his death all the experiences of the long years assemble in his mind to
> form a question which he has never yet asked the doorkeeper. He beckons
> to him since he can no longer raise his stiffening body. The doorkeeper
> has to bend down to him, for the difference in height has changed very
> much to the man's disadvantage. "What is it that you still want to know?"
> asks the doorkeeper, "you are insatiable." "Surely everyone strives to
> reach the law," says the man, "how does it happen that for all these many
> years no one except me has ever asked for admittance?" The doorkeeper recognizes
> that the man is at his end, and in order to reach his failing ears he raises
> his voice and bellows at him: "No one else could ever have been admitted
> here, since this entrance was intended for you alone. Now I am going to
> close it."(13)
> 
> Before the Law was first published as a short story in its own right,
> but also appears in Kafka's best-known novel, The Trial. The novel
> begins as Josef K. is inexplicably arrested on the morning of his thirtieth
> birthday, "without having done anything wrong." His guards imply that his
> mere ignorance of the law is enough to prove his guilt. Although under
> arrest K. is free to continue life as before. He spends much of his time
> attempting to fathom the mysteries of the legal system, but never gets
> any closer even to identifying his crime. Finally, while visiting a cathedral
> he is addressed by a man calling himself the "prison chaplain." This man
> tells him this parable of the doorkeeper and the man from the country.
> Despite being thrown into confusion by the contradictory, quasi-Talmudic
> commentaries offered by the chaplain, K. readily identifies with the man
> in the story and his struggle to comprehend the law.
> 
> From his professional training and his work in an accident insurance
> office, Kafka was well aware of the iniquities of legal systems. The greatest
> quality of The Trial is often considered its depiction of the barriers
> these systems place between the lay individual and justice. Yet it is important
> to ask ourselves what kind of law Before the Law is chiefly concerned
> with. The "radiance that streams out unquenchably" from the law may be
> compared with a prophecy in Isaiah 60:2:
> 
> ...darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness
> the peoples, but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen
> upon you.
> 
> The word "glory" renders the Hebrew "kabod," a word particularly used in
> the prophecy of divine revelation, equivalent to the Arabic "Bahá'."(14)
> The symbolism with which the law is invested suggests that the man from
> the country's quest is to be understood in spiritual terms. Moreover, the
> closest source for the configuration of the doorkeeper legend is a Midrashic
> legend, according to which Moses was only permitted to receive the Ten
> Commandments on Sinai after defeating a succession of increasingly powerful
> doorkeeper angels.(15) As all German nouns
> are capitalized, "law" could equally well be replaced with "Law" in the
> sense of divine moral law.
> 
> Unfortunately for the "man from the country," he is no Moses. In fact
> his appellation is a literal translation of "am ha'aretz," a Hebrew term
> for an illiterate Jew unversed in the Law. This name makes his identification
> with Josef K, who is tormented by his own ignorance of legal matters, even
> stronger. As we have seen, divine law on the Mosaic model does not only
> define crime but prescribes righteous actions in every area of daily life.
> A consequence of the imperfection in human nature is that we cannot rely
> on our conscience to discern right from wrong. K. may well have sinned
> unintentionally simply by living his life with no conception of moral law,
> as suggested by the guard Franz, "he admits to not knowing the law, and
> at the same time protests his innocence." The Trial thrives on the
> fear that K may indeed be guilty "without having done anything wrong."
> 
> This conclusion readily confirms the message of the other two stories:
> human beings are unable to deal with their conflicting natures or to act
> with true justice. It rests on the concept of original sin. Kafka treats
> this theme explicitly in Aphorisms #83:
> 
> We are sinful not only because we have eaten from the
> tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, but because we have not yet eaten
> of the Tree of Life. We are in a state of sinfulness, irrespective of guilt.
> 
> He uses the story of Eden in a very creative way. Instead of suggesting
> that sin has literally been passed down the generations from a single event
> in the life of Adam, he gives the elements of the narrative a timeless
> role in human lives, thus translating original sin into the modern concept
> of "existential guilt." However, he does not make it clear what he means
> by the "Tree of Life," any more than did the author of Genesis! 'Abdu'l-Bahá
> explains the term as "the position of the Word of God and the Supreme Manifestation,"(16)
> i.e. both the Law itself and the prophet who bears it. This would imply
> that the sinful state of humanity derives from our failure to receive religious
> revelation. A related symbol for the Manifestation in Bahá'í
> scripture is the "Tree beyond which there is no passing," both the boundary
> and the link between the worlds of God and man. It derives from the Middle
> Eastern practice of planting a tree to mark the end of a road into a desert.
> Kafka takes up the same idea (with a twist!) in a comment on the Burning
> Bush, the revealer of the Word of God, "The thorn-bush has always barred
> the way. It has to burn if you want to get any further."(17)
> 
> Many of Kafka's works are similarly overshadowed by a colossal, unobtainable
> object, that may or may not take physical form, notably The Castle.
> Yet its internal workings ultimately prove complex and corrupt like the
> legal system of The Trial. Yet we only have the doorkeeper's word
> that this is true of the "Law," which is externally discernible only by
> its "radiance." This lends it the protean character of a genuine absolute,
> suggesting that it may indeed be the kind of symbol of spiritual fulfilment
> that in other works exists only in a flawed form. Despite his gloomy reputation
> as the voice of 20th-century despondency, this fulfilment was a very real
> concept for Kafka. He doubted only its attainment in the modern world:
> 
> We were created to live in paradise, paradise was destined
> to serve us. Our destiny was changed; that the same thing happened to the
> destiny of paradise is not stated.(18)
> Taking the title Before the Law temporally, some say that the fulfilment
> promised to the man from the country comes only after death, his passage
> to eternal life. Yet this reading does not carry well into the novel, where
> K. dies "like a dog" with no sign of redemption. As the prison chaplain
> later implies, the man from the country has a real choice: instead of resigning
> himself to sit and wait for death, he may simply walk past the doorkeeper.
> He needs only the courage of his conviction that "the law should be accessible
> to everyone and at all times." The fact that the gate is always open implies
> that this is indeed the case. Yet he submits piously to religious authority
> in the figure of the doorkeeper. This caricature of a Jewish scholar of
> the law, corrupt and flea-ridden, deserves no more respect than the fanatical
> officer of the penal colony, but the "am ha'aretz" obeys his prohibition.
> 
> Almost every society depicted by Kafka is dominated by the concepts
> of subordinacy and fear of one's superiors. The man from the country readily
> accepts the myth of the succession of doorkeepers because such a hierarchy
> is a familiar set-up. He is used to being the humblest member of a community
> led by clergy, and never finds grounds to doubt the doorkeeper's authority
> even when it occurs to him that this model has a major fault: there is
> no community and he is quite alone. He expects everyone to strive to reach
> the law, as Isaiah envisions nations and kings striving towards the light
> of the Lord (60:3).
> 
> Yet the man from the country fails to realize that nevertheless each
> has his own entrance to the Law. Each faces his own challenge, tailored
> to himself. The barriers have no independent existence but, like the legal
> machinery in the novel, merely mirror the seeker's actions and character.
> Thus the doorkeeper is the product of the man's willingness to obey a superior
> authority. In reality he has no moral superior, for in this respect we
> are "essentially identical."(19) His goal
> will remain out of reach until he exercises his own spiritual autonomy,
> yet it is so close that one of the Hidden Words (Persian #7)(20)
> in the same metaphor could be addressed to him:
> 
> Thou art but one step away from the glorious heights
> above and from the celestial tree of love. Take thou one step and with
> the next advance into the immortal realm and enter the pavilion of eternity.
> 
> End Notes
> 
> This essay won the 1995 ABS-ESE Student Prize for Bahá'í Studies.
> 
> From "Betrachtungen über Sünde, Leid, Hoffnung und den wahren Weg" #57, translated as The Collected Aphorisms (London: Penguin, 1994). I have however not used this translation throughout.
> 
> Tagebücher, ed. Hans-Gerd
> Koch, Michael Müller and Malcolm Pasley (Frankfurt-am-Main: S. Fischer,
> 1990) 845-6.
> 
> Bahá'u'lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá'u'lláh (Wilmette: Bahá'í Publishing Trust, 1983) 87.
> 
> Ibid.
> 
> 'Abdu'l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions (Wilmette: Bahá'í Publishing Trust, 1984) 236.
> 
> Ritchie Robertson, Kafka: Judaism, Politics and Literature (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985).
> 
> Nachgelassene Schriften und Fragmente, vol II, ed. Jost Schillemeit (Frankfurt-am-Main: S. Fischer, 1992) 98.
> 
> Ulf Abraham, Der Verhörte Held: Recht und Schuld im Werk Franz Kafkas (Munich: W. Fink, 1985) 119.
> 
> Bahá'u'lláh, Kitáb-i-Aqdas (Haifa: Bahá'í World Centre, 1992) K4.
> 
> Aphorisms #20.
> 
> Tagebücher 857.
> 
> In The Transformation ('Metamorphosis') and other Stories, trans. and ed. Malcolm Pasley (London: Penguin, 1992) 165.
> 
> Stephen Lambden, "The Word Bahá': Quintessence of the Greatest Name," The Bahá'í Studies Review 3.1 (1993): 19-42.
> 
> Gerhard Kurz, Meinungen zur Schrift: Zur Exegese der Legende "Vor dem Gesetz" im Roman "Der Prozess" 216, in Kafka und das Judentum, ed. K.E. Grözinger, S. Moses, H.D. Zimmermann (Frankfurt am Main: Jüdischer Verlag bei Athenäum, 1987).
> 
> 'Abdu'l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions 124.
> 
> Nachgelassene Schriften und Fragmente, vol. II, 48.
> 
> Aphorisms #84.
> 
> Aphorisms #86
> 
> Bahá'u'lláh, The Hidden Words of Bahá'u'lláh (London: Bahá'í Publishing Trust, 1975).
> 
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> — *Kafka's spiritual dimension (Used by permission of the curator)*